


Pay It Forward

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:57:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Koganegawa Kanji struggles to find his inherent rhythm and earn a place on the Datekou team, an anonymous angel appears to help him. The only stipulation for the gift is that Kanji must ‘pay it forward’. </p><p>(And thus it begins)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been written (and is still being written) for Datekou week on tumblr. Thanks to Isy (memorde) for being encouraging when I've been whining about no inspiration. 
> 
> I love Datekou. I love Futakuchi in particular, but I've barely written them before, so I hope this doesn't fail too badly.
> 
> This is basically a fun fic, so ... HAVE FUN!
> 
> (psst - I'm sorry about the song; I couldn't resist)

Sometimes Kanji hated being tall. For one thing, it was often assumed he was older than fifteen and should behave more ‘appropriately.’ (You’re too loud, Koganegawa. Act your age, boy!) For another, everyone thought he was unafraid of everything. It was Kanji who was called by his mom to dispose of the spiders that always found their way to the bath, and it was Kanji who switched off the landing light after his younger brother and sister had fallen asleep, because there was no way a big boy like him could be scared of the dark.

(He _was_ scared. He hated the dark, hated the fact that it would surround and engulf him, so he’d carry his phone everywhere, resting it under his pillow so he could see by its light.)

And no one believed he’d be scared of the coach, so he was the one prodded awake to go to the kitchen and fetch more food for the team during training camp.

 

The other reason he hated being so tall was that everyone assumed he’d move the same way as the other members of the Iron Wall. But Kanji knew he didn’t have Aone’s solidity or Futakuchi’s litheness. He was a tall, awkward lump of a boy, who’d not yet grown into his limbs. A boy who’d trip on his legs and get people laughing because surely he should be more in tune with his body for an athlete.

It was the second day of Training Camp, and Kanji was already at breaking point. (That was another thing about being so tall – he wasn’t allowed to break, or cry.) He’d played Setter a few times at Junior High, and had liked it. He’d loved the feeling of being useful, of setting up plays for the Wing Spikers, and he’d been reasonably good.

Until the growth spurt.

Now he was too lanky, and his control of the ball had fled his oversized arms as swiftly as he’d outgrown his Junior High uniform.

“Maybe you could move to Middle Blocker,” Moniwa, his captain and senpai suggested kindly.

“Middle Blockers have to be able to move, too,” Futakuchi snapped as he picked himself off the floor after Kanji had barged into him again.  “And have a sense of timing! He’s hopeless!”

“That’s what we said about you, Futa-chan!” bellowed Kamasaki, a jeer on his lips. “Quit bellyaching and get on with the game. You wanna be a senpai, then get on with teachin’ your kouhai, you fuckwit!”

Futakuchi made a move towards him, already glaring, shocking Kanji, who wouldn’t have dared take on a senpai, especially one who was already rolling up his sleeves (his short sleeves, too, showing off his huge biceps). He shivered, wondering if he should stand between them, or apologise again, anything to take the heat out of the situation, but while he was considering, the massive force that was the other Middle Blocker stepped forwards, and grabbed each one by the scruff of the neck, breaking the confrontation before it could start.

Subbed out, Kanji stood on the sidelines, biting his lip in worry and also frustration. He yearned to be as cool as these guys. He wanted to be able to set as well as Moniwa-san, spike as ferociously as the smart talking Futakuchi, and block as brilliantly as Aone-senpai. He didn’t want to be the one to disgrace the Iron Wall.

“Don’t worry,” whispered a voice from somewhere around his chest area.  Kanji looked down and saw the anxious face of Sakunami staring up at him, a slight reassuring smile on his lips. “You just need to find your rhythm, that’s all.”

 

_Find a rhythm,_ he thought. That was yet another thing about being tall and clumsy. He _had_ no rhythm. He was all flailing limbs, clumsy runs, unsteady jumps and tosses that went far too high to be any use.

But what he did have was determination, and that was why he was here in the gym, after the others had left, practising serves, blocks and spikes with the long-suffering Libero.

“WHY CAN’T I DO THIS?” he yelled, as once again he fumbled a shot.

“Uhm, what was that supposed to be?” Sakunami asked.

Kanji blushed – he could feel tears of frustration and exhaustion prickle behind his eyes – but he couldn’t break, not in front of anyone. “Dump shot,” he mumbled. “They’re kinda cool, but it’s hard to pull them off.”

Sakunami sighed. “Let’s take a break.  I’ll fill up the water bottles.”

Grateful that the his fellow first year had even agreed to stay as long as he had, Kanji nodded. He sat by the side of the court, his towel over his head, and thought over the Setters he’d seen play.  Moniwa, solid and reliable, that King of the Court guy for Kitigawa Daiichi, wow – he’d been amazing. But the coolest of all, the guy he really wanted to emulate – Oikawa Tooru, Setter for Aobajousai. The player who looked incredible whatever he did, for whatever play he attempted, he managed to pull it off.

He huffed out his cheeks, too despondent to look up when he heard Sakunami return. But the footsteps at the door didn’t come closer, and when he heard the door close again and Sakunami still didn’t speak, he pushed the towel off his head.

It wasn’t Sakunami. There was no one there. But there was something on the floor. Something small.  Hesitantly he made his way to the door, bent down and picked up the object. It was an ipod. A very small one – like a Shuffle or Nano.

_‘To help you find your rhythm.’_ The post it note read. _‘Listen, then try again, Kogane-kun.’_

He didn’t need another hint. After unravelling the earphones wrapped around it, Kanji listened. He started to smile. He knew this song. Who couldn’t fail to know the track, when it had been blaring out across Japan for the past six months? And yeah, it suited him. He could be that guy. He could be cool. It would just take practise.

“Toss me another, Sakunami-kun!” he said, grinning when he returned.

The ball headed towards him, he made the motions for a dump shot, but instead of trying to tip it over the net, he slammed it down.

“Too Hot (Hot Damn!),” he roared as the ball smacked the court, “Call the police and the fireman!”

“You’re getting it, Koganegawa-kun! You’re getting it,” Sakunami cried.

“Yeah.” He nodded and strutted to the centre of the court. “Yeah, I am.”

 

It was later, when they were finally packing up, that Kanji read through the note again, this time flipping it over.

_‘Leave the ipod in the gym, where it will be collected later. This was a random act of kindness – pay it forward, kouhai, pay it forward.’_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sakunami Kousuke finds he can't sleep and spills his fears to second year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole fic was written for Datekou week.  
> Day two's prompt is 'Second Years and Weather' 
> 
> I forgot to mention that the inspiration for this story came from Megan (muse_ical_macchiato) because she posted a picture of some flowers that someone had left her as a Random Act of Kindness

On the second night of training camp, the rain set in.  It wasn’t light drizzle, but wind-lashing rain peltering on a corrugated iron roof, the storm causing the windows on the dorm to rattle.  Kousuke Sakunami didn’t like storms. He preferred sunny days training outside, running through fields, or lying in the sun people-watching. He also didn’t like tossing and turning because he couldn’t sleep between the noise of the inclement weather, Kamasaki- san’s snoring and Moniwa-san’s fretful somniloquy.

He’d been awake for an hour now, staring at the ceiling, and the rain was only getting worse, so deciding it wasn’t going to disrupt his sleep anymore than it already had, Kousuke picked up his blanket, dragging it from under Kanji’s leg, and crept out of the dorm.

There was no television in the lounge because the coach had decided they needed no other distractions and he’d left his phone upstairs, but he knew there were books, and he might find a magazine to skim through – anything to keep his mind occupied and off the storm.

He couldn’t hear the wind downstairs, which was a blessing, but the rain was still drumming hard against the windows, and he shivered into his blanket. It was dark, but just as he stretched his arm along the wall to switch on the light, a sudden flash illuminated the room.

And another figure looking out, his nose pressed up against the windowpane.

Kousuke shrieked, then stifled the terror because the figure jumped, turned and then smiled wearily.

“Sakunami-kun,” it said. “Having trouble sleeping, too?”

“Uh...” He peered closer, swallowed and then tried a very tentative smile, followed by a bow. “Onagawa-san, I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

Yawning as he ran his fingers through his shaggy mop of hair, Onagawa Tarou shrugged. “You weren’t.  I was just thinking.”

Kousuke stayed by the door, not wanting to intrude, but Onagawa left the window and flopped down onto one of the floor cushions. “Fancy a game of cards?”

“Do we have any?” Kousuke asked, switching the light on. “The third years were playing poker earlier but that was in the dorm.”

“Uhm ...” Onagawa leant across to the small chest of drawers where they kept a few games (nothing electronic because the coach had banned them, too). “Only Happy Families and Sushi-san the Fisherman is missing.  There’s a jigsaw puzzle.”

“Sure.” It was better than going back to bed and not sleeping, plus jigsaws were so boring, he’d soon feel sleepy again.

Tipping the contents of the box onto the floor, Onagawa started to sort through the pieces, his rather chubby fingers clumping the pieces together.

Kousuke picked up the box lid, examining the picture of Mount Fuji “Onagawa-san,” he muttered.

“Hmm?”

“This is a one thousand piece puzzle and ... um ...”

“Ah!” Onagawa stopped sifting through the pieces. “We have roughly ... what ... three hundred pieces?” He grinned, his eyes lit with merriment. “Perhaps Kamasaki’s been eating the pieces to bulk up.”

“It’s probably been here for years,” Kousuke replied, slightly perturbed at Onagawa’s lack of respect for his senpai, and started to pick at the brown sellotape holding the corners of the box together. “Is there anything else to do?”

He shrugged. “Nope. We could talk.” He twisted his mouth into a half-smile and stared at Kousuke. “I don’t know much about you, Sakunami-kun, except that you’re a Libero.”

He must have pulled a face because Onagawa stopped smiling. “Um, sorry, is that a sore subject?”

“It’s ... um ...” He looked away, starting to gather up the puzzle pieces, but then he cleared his throat because the other boy was genuinely listening. “It’s the only thing people know about me, and it’s because I’m short.”

“Liberos are, though,” Onagawa said, and yawned a little. “No one of your height’s going to be a Wing Spiker, or Middle Blocker.” He shrugged. “It’s hard enough for me –especially on this team.”

“But ... it’s ... it’s just that ...” He shivered a little in his blanket. “When I’m not on court, I’m the dopey looking shortarse,” he muttered, remembering a taunt from Junior High. And then, as the memories rushed at him, he found words spilling out of his mouth. “When I got a place here, everyone from my old team laughed. It’s not exactly a position that’s legendary for the Iron Wall. They pride themselves on blocking rather than relying on their Libero. I ... um ... feel kind of ... unnecessary.”

Why he was telling Onagawa all of this, he didn’t know. They guy looked as if he really didn’t care, but he kept his mouth shut, at least until Kousuke had finished.

“And Liberos need connections with the team because we’re on and off so much that it can get choppy. I sometimes feel ... um ... I feel as if Datekou would rather play without one, would prefer to go back to the days when Libero wasn’t a position.”

“Hey, you get to stand on court,” Onagawa said at last, interrupting his gabbling. “I’m just the guy on the on the side-” He stopped and jerked his head to the side. “Did you hear that noise?”

“Huh?” Kousuke stared at him quizzically. “It’s the wind, probably.”

“No ... no ...” Onagawa got to his feet and with his finger to his lips, crept to the door. “I swear I heard someone out there,” he whispered.

Kousuke gulped. “Um ... we’re allowed up, aren’t we? I mean, it’s not my fault that I can’t sleep. And ... I haven’t eaten anything. Getting up for a glass of water, that’s okay, isn’t it?”

Onagawa scowled. Clearly forgetting his suspicion that someone else was also awake, he shuffled back to Kousuke and stared down at him. “Why did you mention food?”

“Uh ...”  Widening his eyes, Kousuke peered up at the older boy. Despite his best attempt to intimidate, though, Onagawa’s mouth was still turned up at the corners, and his sticky-out hair only aided his resemblance to a clown. He bit his lip in an attempt to stifle the laugh in his throat, then coughed. “Kogane-kun was told off by the coach for raiding the fridge,” he replied at last.

“And that’s the only reason?”  He sounded suspicious, and very mildly threatening, Kousuke thought, now desperate to look away, or change the subject.

He nodded. “I don’t want to get into trouble with the coach. Maybe I sh-should go to bed.”

With a sigh, Onagawa dropped to the floor. “You won’t get into trouble. Kogane-kun was shouted at because he finished off the umeboshi just before dinner, so there was none for breakfast. And the coach knows that Futakuchi put him up to raiding the fridge on the first night, so he’s just trying to scare him a bit as it won’t work on Kenji.”  He paused and gnawed his lip. “Sorry, I’m just a bit touchy about food, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

There was a silence while Kousuke tried to think what to say, but really what could he say. If he asked why, then his senpai might think he was impertinent, if he said nothing, then Onagawa might think he didn’t care. And ... well, should he care? He barely knew the guy. This was the first time they’d actually had a conversation beyond a ‘hi’ when Onagawa was at practise. And it was hardly Kousuke’s fault that he’d made it on the team in his first year while Onagawa was still on the sidelines in his second because he was right - Liberos were an afterthought for Datekou.

“Is that all you can say?”

“Um...”

“Very eloquent,” Onagawa muttered and stared moodily out of the window. “Fucking rain. We won’t get a decent run if the field’s muddy.” He huffed out his cheeks. “As you’re clearly too polite to ask, I’ll come out with it.”

“Uh ... okay.”

Standing up, Onagawa lifted up his pyjama shirt and frowned down at his pale, rounded stomach. “Do you think I’m fat, Sakunami-kun?”

“Pardon!”

“You heard me.” He pinched at his skin, holding a fold of his tummy between his fingers. “Am I carrying too much weight?”

“Uh ...”

“Honest answer, please. Or I’ll pull the senpai card on you and force you to confess undying love to Kamasaki.”

“Right ...” And although Kousuke wanted more than anything to be somewhere else, to not have to look at Onagawa as he prodded his abdomen, making a small roll of fat wobble in his hands, he knew there was no escape. And he’d just have to trust in the good fortune that Onagawa really wasn’t his type, so he was unlikely to blush as he offered his opinion.

He flicked his eyes up and down, assessing the other boy’s frame. “No,” he said slowly, “I don’t think you’re carrying any extra weight. But ... um ...”

“What does the ‘um’ mean?” His voice was calm, and Kousuke realised he did actually want an honest opinion.

“Well, not that this is a bad thing, by any means, and I’m sure it doesn’t make a difference to ... uh ... to girls and that kind of stuff but ... um ...” He swallowed, a little nervous, but Onagawa didn’t look as if he was going to hit him, so he ploughed on. “You could maybe do some crunches and tone up a bit. The team is ... um ... well, they’re sort of addicted to exercise, aren’t they?”

“True, very true,” Onagawa replied. He turned away, dropping his shirt and walked back to the window. “But you don’t think I’m fat?”

“N-no, not at all. Um ... why would you think that, Onagawa-san?”

“It’s my mum,” he said, pulling a face. “She’s buying low calorie pot noodle, and I don’t ... know... _why_.” He pressed his finger on the windowpane, tracing a rain drop as it dribbled down the outside. “There’s a cupboard full of them at home, so I can help myself when I get back from school, but they don’t taste as good.”

“Maybe ...” Kousuke said timidly, not sure he should venture another opinion, but he knew what his own mum was like. “Maybe there was a special offer, and she didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Hmm, yeah, you could be right. She does like a bargain.” His voice was thoughtful, brooding, and then just as quickly as he’d started the conversation, he snapped back round, and gave Kousuke a grin. “Rain’s just about stopped. We should probably go back to the dorm. Unless you want a game of Happy Families.”

 

In the dorm, tiptoeing around the sleeping Iron Wall of Datekou, Kousuke slipped into his space. Koganegawa was motionless, his eyes screwed tightly shut, his breathing faintly uneven. But he didn’t stir when Kousuke accidentally nudged him, so he probably was asleep.

 

***

Getting up for breakfast came all too soon. Kousuke’s eyes flew open and he cringed in terror seeing Aone looming over him. There was a hand on his arm and a mouth close to his ear.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty-kun,” Futakuchi crooned. He grinned malevolently, twisting his mouth into a smirk, and winked at Aone. “Our kouhai’s so sweet when he’s sleeping, but you gotta get to breakfast before Kamasaki or he’ll eat all the eggs, Saku-chan, and you need them so you can grow into a big, strong-”

A foot poked Futakuchi away. “Oi! Kenji. Leave him alone!”

“Huh? Pantalons, what’s got you so riled? I’m just looking out for our Libero.”

Blinking away the sleep in his eyes, Kousuke found himself staring past Futakuchi and at the shorter, but somehow no less impressive, figure of his companion of last night.  Stepping to the side of Futakuchi, Onagawa crouched down next to Kousuke, and it was then that he realised he was holding something strange in his hands.

Well, okay, the first one wasn’t that strange. It was normal- _ish_ , especially after their conversation from last night, so Onagawa holding a pot noodle, and a fully calorific one at that, wasn’t strange at all. He must have gone out as soon as he woke and bought himself one –

“I found a bag at the breakfast table,” he muttered. “It had our names on. I got a pot noodle, and you ...”  He trailed off, then presented the other gift to Kousuke.

“Uh ... why?” he asked.

“A bonsai tree?” Futakuchi laughed. “Are you taking up gardening now, Saku-chan?”

“There’s a note,” Onagawa continued, ignoring Futakuchi. “Apparently this is a ‘random act of kindness’ and ... uh ...”  He stopped and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “We have to ‘pay it forward’.”

“Oh ... okay. But ... um ...” ousuke creased his brow in confusion. “Why a bonsai tree? I don’t get it.”

“’Cause you’re little?” Futakuchi replied, but he didn’t sound mocking. If anything, he sounded more perplexed than Kanji.

The light in the room changed. Kousuke wasn’t sure what had happened, but suddenly he could see the bonsai tree clearer, and then he deduced that Aone had moved and was no longer blocking out the daylight from the window.

“Harmony, honour, patience,” he growled.

“Huh?” All three of them stared up at the man mountain. And Kousuke realised it was the first time he’d heard Aone say more than two words off the volleyball court. (And even on court, he was never the most loquacious of guys.)

“Um ... what’s that got to do with me?” Kousuke squeaked, terrified because Aone was bending over him to examine the plant.

“Well, at a guess,” Futakuchi replied, sounding sincere for once. “I’m thinking someone believes you have all three.” He stared at Onagawa. “What do you reckon, Tarou-kun?”

“Hey, don’t look at me, I got a gift, too. But ... uh ...  maybe the giver thinks you’re a pretty great guy who deserves his place on the team despite being short and a first year? Perhaps? I dunno! ” He examined his pot noodle, and then broke into a grin. “We need to put our heads together and work on this, Saku-kun.”

“Pay it forward, you mean?” Kousuke replied.

“Mmm, that too.”

“Woo-hoo!” Futakuchi yelled with delight. “Well, just so you know, I like sour gummies, but if you can’t find them, then cookies or cupcakes or-”

“Random, you asshole!” Onagawa retorted and slapped him on the head. “Nope, me and Saku-chan are going to find someone ... _deserving_ , aren’t we?”

Kousuke nodded, and then he smiled, suddenly feeling so much better about everything. The storm was over, the clouds had cleared and he was a first team player, with a team who respected him, despite the fact he’d never be part of their Iron Wall.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normally Futakuchi's wisecracks wash over Takehito, but on day four of Training Camp, he's tired, frustrated and concerned about the coming year. So he really doesn't need any more reminders that he's seen as the 'old man' of the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three of the fic written for Datekou Week on tumblr. The prompt was 'third years and night'.

On day four of Training Camp, Takehito Sasaya stomped off the court in a foul mood.  As much as he loved the team, and thirsted for them to succeed, Training Camp had never been his favourite time of the year. It had always been tense as they tried to meld the old and new into a team, but knowing this would be his last, and they only had the Inter-Highs left to prove themselves, had added another layer of pressure to the week.

 He was tired, hungry, and his body ached from the extra laps the coach had made them all run that morning. It wasn’t that he was unfit, but as he’d recently started taking early morning gym sessions with Kamasaki (why he’d agreed he didn’t know ... well, he did know, but he wasn’t going to think about that) and had been in too much of a rush to warm up properly, he thought he might have pulled something in his calf.  There was certainly something niggling, so he bent down and rubbed it gingerly.

_Please, please don’t be a tendon problem. Not now. Not when we have the Inter-_

“Crack! I can hear you creaking from here, Sasaya-san. Do you need a hand straightening up?”

_I am really not in the mood for your wisecracks, asshole!_ “Shut it, kouhai, before I kick your butt into next week.”

“Huh?” 

Turning, Takehito saw the surprise on Futakuchi’s face, his irrepressible smirk replaced by incomprehension.

“You think it’s funny? I’m exhausted and ache all over, but that’s fucking fine because it keeps you amused and-”

“Sasaya-kun,” Moniwa interrupted, tugging gently on his sleeve. “Have first bath. Go now, and leave the clearing up to us. Take as long as you want.”

“I’m fine!” he snapped.

Moniwa shook his head. “This is unlike you,” he murmured. “You’ve been on edge these past four days so please take some time to relax.”

It was when he got to the bathroom door that he remembered he’d forgotten his towel, so he turned back, slowing as he heard raised voices from the changing room. 

“What was up with him?” Futakuchi was saying, his arms raised, palms to the ceiling. “What did I say that was _actually_ that bad?”

“Your old man jokes go a little too far at times,” Moniwa explained wearily.

“B-but you’re always -” Futakuchi protested. Takehito saw him step closer to Moniwa, an incredulous plea on his lips.  “Senpai, you and Kamachi ... uh ... Kamasaki-san are always taking the piss. You said that he was the like the dad of the team, and Kamasaki calls him Gramps whenever he wears that horrible brown sweater. _He_ said it was the sort of thing his granddad wears when he does the gardening.”

“OY!  Don’t drag me into this, ya little runt!” Kamasaki shouted.

Despite his mood, Takehito had to smother a grin, amused that Kamasaki - barely four centimetres taller than Futakuchi – still pulled the height card on their kouhai.

“What, so you’re allowed to joke about him, to rip apart his taste in clothes, but I’m not even supposed to make one comment? It wasn’t even a bad comment, but I get slapped down.  Hell, you were slagging off his music yesterday _and_ his dad-dancing.”

“BECAUSE HE’S MY FRIEND AND YOU’RE THE FUCKIN’ KOUHAI!”  Kamasaki yelled. “AND YA NEED TO SHOW SOME RESPECT WHEN YA TALKING TO YER SENPAIS!”

“I’LL LEARN RESPECT, YOU MUSCLE BOUND BLOCKHEAD, WHEN-”

“AONE!” Moniwa’s order wasn’t loud, but his voice had reached shrill level as he sought to calm his feuding team vice captain and ace.

Through the crack in the door, Takehito watched as Moniwa pushed Aone into action. He pulled them apart, dumping Futakuchi on a bench, leaving Kamasaki standing, both still furious.

With a sudden loud cough, Takehito made a show of tiptoeing into the room, amused when everyone stared at him, glassy horror and rictus grins on their faces. “I’ll be getting my towel, then,” he said breezily. “Sakunami-kun, could you pass it to me?  It’s hanging on the peg behind you.”

“Yes, yes,” muttered Sakunami, bowing his head a little, as he scurried over to the bag.  His eyes were flickering up to Takehito then he looked away, staring at his feet as he handed the towel over.

“I take it ya heard all o’ that!” Kamasaki said, his voice blunt.

Takehito snorted. “I’d have to be a _really_ old man and stone deaf to shut out your brawling, Kamachi. Have your brains turned to muscle, too?”

He was rewarded with a half grin from Kamasaki, and the atmosphere in the changing room, which had been thickening like fog, dissipated to nothing.

“Ya need mustard to soothe yer lumbago, Gramps?” Kamasaki teased.

“Nope, but find my walking stick, whipper-snapper, and I’ll wrap it around that thick head of yours,” he croaked back, crinkling his eyes and stroking an imaginary beard.

Out of the corner of his eye, Takehito saw Sakunami edging away, sliding closer to Onogawa. “Uh ... are they fighting again?” he heard him mutter.

Onogawa shook his head, but his eyes narrowed and then he grinned a little.

_What the fuck is going on with Pantalons?_

 

Later, after his bath and the evening meal, when they were all relaxing, Takehito decided to leave the common room. He needed air, and listening to Futakuchi pleading with everyone to play charades, or at least do _something_ because he was bored, was like fingernails on a blackboard, irking his nerve endings.  He was halfway up the stairs when a voice called out.

“Ya know, if ya walk up stairs on your toes, it exercises yer calf muscles better. Might stop that arthritis, Sasaya-kun.”

“Thought I had lumbago,” he replied, pausing on the step. He turned his head, assuming a smile. “Escaping our kouhais, too, Kamachi?”

Kamasaki screwed his face into a grin. “Think I only make it worse for Moniwa. Those second years are really getting cheeky, though. They need a slap.”

“What, even Aone-kun?”

“Nah, not him. He’s just a frickin’ tower of marble glarin’ at everyone. That other kid ain’t bad ... uh ... shit, what’s his name?”

“Onagawa?”

Kamasaki shook his head. “He’s a dickhead, too. I mean the new Wing Spiker.”

“Oh ... Obara-kun.” Takehito considered the guy, picturing his cropped hair, small smile, and his inability to put himself forward, despite his talent. Colourless. “Yeah, he’s okay. Clever player. He thinks a lot.”

Kamasaki joined him on the stair. “Where you going? Too early for bed.”

“Fresh air. Thought I’d go up to the roof and ... I dunno ... look at the stars or something.”

“Ah- okay.”

There was something despondent about his tone, something Takehito wasn’t used to with Kamasaki. For as long as he’d known the guy, he was all fired up ambition, and fighting talk, but now he seemed dejected. Swallowing down his doubts and trepidation, Takehito took a breath.  “Want to join me?”

“Uh ... sure.” He sounded confused, but then grinned again. “I’ll get some drinks, yeah?”

“Mmm, I’ll grab two sweaters.”

In the dormitory, Takehito was struck by two things. One was the incredible mess around Kamasaki’s bed and the corner where he’d flung his clothes, and the other was the fact that his bag wasn’t where he’d left it.  He hadn’t bothered to unpack, knowing things were far more likely to go missing if he shared drawers and cupboards with people. Instead, everything had been pressed, folded and packed by his mom into a large holdall that he’d slung over his shoulder.  The holdall that wasn’t under the window.  He frowned, knowing he’d left it there when he’d dressed after his bath, because he’d draped his towel over the radiator, too.  Now it had been moved further along the wall.

As he approached, he could see the bag was open, just a little, but the zip hadn’t been fastened properly, and an unfamiliar item of clothing, in a colour he didn’t wear (he liked brown, it was easy to wear, what more was there to say?) peered up at him.

“What the ...” he muttered, pulling out a green and black t-shirt. “This must be someone else’s. How the hell did it get in my bag?  This isn’t... oh, what’s that?”  His hand furled round a piece of paper caught in the folds of the shirt.

_‘You’re an amazing senpai, and I respect you, but your clothes are uncool. As a random act of kindness, I have bought you this shirt. Wear it and be awesome.’_

“WHAT?”

He turned the paper over. “No thanks are necessary, but please pay it forward.’

“Hey, where d’you get to? I’ve got the drinks?”

“Uh...”  Takehito glanced up from the note and stared at Kamasaki. “S-someone’s left me a present,” he said, and held out the shirt. “Says my clothes are-“  he scanned the note again “- uncool. And this is a random act of kindness.”

Kamasaki grinned. “Well, they ain’t wrong. Yer clothes are shit, Take-kun.” He gestured to the shirt with his hand. “Go ahead, try it on.”

For some reason (well, he knew the reason) he felt awkward stripping in front of Kamasaki, which was utterly dumb as they’d shared a changing room and a team bath many times before, but here, now, when it was just the pair of them, and the focus was only on Takehito and his shirt, he found himself struggling to breathe. But he couldn’t say no, not without sounding like an idiot, so instead, he turned his back, whipped off the brown shirt he was wearing (which he’d selected deliberately to provoke Futakuchi, who’d annoyingly stared at him but refrained from making any comment) and slipped on his gift.

It felt scratchy, that was his first thought. But not uncomfortably so. It was more that he was unused to the fabric because it was new, probably.

“Whoa! Crazy design!”

“What?”

“Look at it! It’s been ripped and stitched and –” Kamasaki’s eyes flared and half his mouth tilted up in a smirk.  “That’s one hot fuckin’ shirt, dude?”

“Really?”

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Kamasaki propelled him towards the window. It wasn’t a mirror, but as it was dark, he could see a reasonable reflection of himself in the pane. The t-shirt clung to him, not too tight. It didn’t look, for instance, as if he’d deliberately worn a size too small so he’d look bigger (the way he indulgently suspected Kamasaki did) but it emphasised his shoulders and muscular arms. There were rips in the fabric, by design not accident, strategic tears across his abdomen.

“I look ridiculous!” Takehito protested. “This is a joke gone too far. So what if I wear brown. I like brown. I like boring. I like safe. I like-“

“Holy mother of fuck ... this. Jeez. I ... Fuck! You. Takehito. It ain’t the shirt.”

“What?”

“Where the fuck did you get those abs from?” Kamasaki muttered.

“Huh?”

“Yer abs!”Kamasaki retorted. He leapt across to him, and with his left hand lifted the t-shirt up, placing his right hand on Takehito’s stomach. “Jeez, that ain’t a bad six pack ya got there. Howd’ya do that?”

“Uh ... I dunno,” Takehito replied, desperate not to gasp because Kamasaki was still touching him, his hand softly pummelling his stomach. “Unless it’s the extra sessions with you.”

“Huh? Yeah ... could be?”

And now Kamasaki’s voice sounded strained. As he lifted his palm off his abdomen, Takehito felt a chill shiver through him, and then it intensified because instead of backing away, Kamasaki’s fingers were now tracing his abdomen and the definition of his muscles.

“Kamasaki... stop.”

“Uh... yeah... sorry.” As if in a daze, Kamasaki shook his head, and then took two steps back. He blinked twice, but his gaze was still firmly focused on Takehito’s stomach.

Pulling the shirt straight, Takehito dived back into the bag, picking out his hoodie, which he hurriedly pulled over his head. “I need some air,” he muttered. “Are you coming?”

“Mmm, yeah, I ... uh ...” He drew in a quick breath, then exhaled loudly. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean t’ make ya uncomfortable. I’d hate that t’ happen, Sasaya-san. ‘Cause you’re one o’ the good guys and I ... uh ... I’ve liked hangin’ round with ya more recently.”

Takehito swallowed down the hard lump in his throat, and clenched his hands so tight that the nails dug into his palms as he fought for control. Because, yes, he’d felt uncomfortable, but not in a disgusted way, not in a _‘leave me alone’_ way, but in a ‘ _fuck, don’t stop now’_ type of way.

But he couldn’t tell the hulk of muscle in front of him that, because then Kamasaki would never feel comfortable with him again. And there’d be no more early morning jogs together, or laughing at their kouhais, plotting strategies with Moniwa to take the Inter-High by storm. If he confessed, they wouldn’t be a team anymore, and that meant more to him than anything.

He gulped again, steadying his thoughts as he pleated the t-shirt. “So ... um... you didn’t give me this, then?”

“Nope, not me,” Kamasaki replied, shaking his head. “Wish I had.”

“What?”

“Nothin’. We goin’ to the roof?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Kamasaki hesitated when he got to the dorm door, casting one look back over his shoulder and grinned at Takehito. “I gotta up my trainin’ programme. You’re catchin’ up with me, Take-chan.” He pursed his lips looking thoughtful.  “Wonder if an eight pack’s possible before the Inter-High.”

 

***

“Whoa, what the fuck did we just see?” Tarou whispered. He grinned down at Sakunami, who was crouched by his feet just round the corner from the shared dormitory.

“Um ... um ... um .. I don’t know, Onagawa-san.” Sakunami shifted onto his haunches. “Are they ... uh ... you know?”

Tarou quirked one eyebrow and ruffled Sakunami’s hair. “I don’t think so. At least ... not yet.  But that shirt ...” He straightened up and slouched back against the wall. “Great job, Saku-chan.”

Sakunami stayed where he was, his eyes huge as he stared up at Tarou. “What are you going to do?  Any ideas?”

Smirking, Tarou glanced along the corridor watching as his senpais ascended the stairs leading to the roof. “Kamasaki wants an eight-pack. I’m gonna write him an anonymous training schedule, and ... uh ...” His lips curved into a beam of a smile that softened his features. “I’ll suggest he finds a training partner.  One he trusts.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the best laid plans might work, but ones cobbled together probably won't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt I used for Day Four was 'colour'.

Yasushi stood in the doorway, his lips pursed as he stared at the back of his teammate’s hooded head.  The teammate in question, Takehito Sasaya, had been ordered to take it easy to rest a pulled muscle in his calf and was now sitting with his back to door, hunched over a table with a pencil in his hand.

“Take-kun,” he said, taking one stride into the room, “I wanted to thank you for ... uh ... I wanted to say ... uh ... I need to ...”  _Fuck, why’s this difficult?_

Sasaya’s head moved slightly, he jerked up, and his eyes met Yasushi’s. “Hey, Kamasaki-kun!  Finished already?” he asked, his voice just a little too loud.

“Uh ... yeah, yeah, _I’ve_ finished. Others are still out there. Uh, I wanted to say ... uh ... thanks for the training-” He chewed his lower lip, then sniffed when he realised Sasaya wasn’t paying any attention.

_Okay, maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be done. Remain anonymous._

“What’cha doin’?” he asked instead

“Pardon?”  He fiddled with something in his pocket, then smiled. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, what are you up to?” he said, enunciating properly.

Sasaya made to screw up the paper in front of him, and then appeared to think better of it, beckoning to Yasushi to come closer. “Oh ... this ... um ... it’s about that t-shirt I got last night.”

“Mmm?” Yasushi frowned as he approached, pulling another chair with him. “Found out who sent it, yet?”

Sasaya shook his head. “No ... I’m not really looking into that. I figure it’s one of the first years, or maybe Obura – uh – Obara.”

“Why?” Yasushi asked, sitting down heavily and scraping his chair along the wooden floor to tuck his legs under the table. “I mean, why are ya narrowin’ it down to them?”

“The note,” Sasaya said, laying the crumpled piece of paper on the table, “is trying so hard to be respectful, so it sure as hell isn’t Futakuchi or Onagawa.”

“Could be Aone-kun?”

Sasaya gave a snort, which turned into a giggle. He looked around the room, faking terror that they would be overheard. “You reckon he can write?” he stage whispered.

“Hey, he ain’t stupid!”

“Huh?” Sasaya’s mouth, which had been grinning, thinned and drooped. “Uh ... what?”

“Nothin’” Yasushi snapped. He sat back in his chair, trying not to scowl, but Sasaya’s remarks, however light, had hit home. Once again, he was reminded of the gulf between them. They might attend the same school, play on the same team, and have the same goal to take Date-Tech to Tokyo, but take volleyball away and ...

_We got nothin’._

Sasaya whistled a breath through his teeth, “Oh-kay, so ... uh ... I need to pay this thing forward, because even though I might never wear that shirt again, it’s still-“

“Whaddyer mean never wear it again? That shirt was cool.”

“Yeah, but I’m not,” Sasaya replied, sounding matter-of-fact. He shook his head. “Right, so I need to work out just who I’m going to be kind to.”

 “Haven’t you already-“ He broke off because Sasaya was still talking.

“-so I don’t suppose you’d ... um ... you’d help me figure this out, would you, Kamachi? Er ... please?”

_What the fuck is he up to? Unless he thinks I need a hand ... ‘cause... Huh?  I don’t get ya, Takehito, I don’t get ya at all, sometimes._

“Sure. Whaddyer want from me?”

“Right, so I’m thinking I have to pay this forward, and can’t pay it back, which means ...” He paused, frowning at the paper. “Which means I can’t do something nice for Sakunami or Koganegawa or Obu- ... er Obara, just in case it’s them.”

“Won’t be that Wing Spiker kid,” Yasushi declared, edging his chair closer.

“Why not?”

“’Seen his clothes, Take-chan. They’re worse than yours.”

“Screw you!” Sasaya said, but he was grinning and then he flicked Yasushi’s forehead with his finger. “Okay ... I have to be nice to someone, so ... uh ... Obara or Moniwa ... or Aone. And what should I do? Which one would you choose, Kamachi?”

_Yeah, I knew it!_

“We-ll, I guess I could try not fightin’ with the kouhais. That’d be nice for Moniwa, but –“

“You not fight with Futakuchi?” Sasaya snorted.  “I think Obara’s the better option. Tell me, what do you know about him?”

“Nothin’.  He’s ... uh ... not left any kinda impression.” Yasushi shrugged. “Gah, I know he’s good. He can spike, but he’s better at receives, so he’s kinda just in the background, ain’t he?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Sasaya murmured and began to rub his lips together, flicking his tongue between them as he ruminated.  “He’s colourless, wouldn’t you say?”

“You plannin’ on spicin’ up his wardrobe, too. ‘Cause that’s been done. Ya need to be a little more original than that, Take-kun.”

“True, very true.” Sasaya narrowed his eyes, and then a curiously sly, but elated, smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “There’s a printer in the office here, isn’t there?”

“Uh ... yeah, I saw it when I was going over rosters with Coach-san and Moniwa. He locked up, though.”

“But there’s a window, and the fire escape’s round the side.”

Yasushi stared at him, watching his thought process as a plan rippled through his brain. Yes, there was a set of stairs, but they didn’t lead to the window. It would take more climbing and a certain amount of luck to get through unscathed. He’d be dumb to agree to this – not least because if Moniwa and the Coach found out, they’d bump their asses down to the subs bench for the next practise match or three.

He sighed. He was dumb, after all.

“Okay, I’m in,” he muttered. “Just ... uh ... tell me why?”

Getting to his feet, Sasaya clapped Yasushi on the shoulder, the movement causing his headphones to dislodge. “Kamachi, my old friend, have you heard of Andy Warhol?”

 

With Yasushi acting not just as lookout, but the person hoisting Sasaya up on his shoulders, so he could heave himself onto the office window ledge, it was easier than he’d first thought to break into the office.

Once Sasaya was safely in, Yasushi ran back inside, and legged it up the stairs waiting for Sasaya to click open the door.

“If we’re caught ...,” he muttered.

“You’re not scared are you, Kamachi?” Sasaya taunted. “Thought you were up for anything?”

“Don’t wanna land Moniwa in the shit, that’s all.” Leaving the door open an inch, he stayed where he was, flicking his eyes between any approaching danger and Sasaya, who’d raced to the desk and was now typing something on the computer. “How long ya gonna be?”

“Not long ... just ...” He brought out his phone, plugging it into the computer, humming to himself as he waited for something to work, then groaning. “Come on, come on, come on!”

“What are you doing?”

“Uh, I want to print something, but it’s not coming through. I don’t know why. This works all the time at home.”

“Uh ...”  Yasushi peered over the top of the desk, his eyes on the printer. “It ain’t turned on, dummy.”

“Ah. Thank you, jerk-face.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. Can you reach that high?”

“Can you quit being an asshole?”

“Prob’ly not.”

Sasaya lifted his chin, his smile broad as he hit send. “I’m gonna miss all of this.”

The printer began to whirr as it spilled out several sheets of paper, and Yasushi stared at him, wondering what exactly Sasaya meant.

“What ya gonna miss?”

“Uh ... this sort of stuff. You and me trading insults. Half the guys not knowing if we’re serious of not. It’s been a great two years, Kamachi.”

“You’ll find other assholes, Take-chan,” he muttered, wondering why his throat felt so constricted.  “And we ain’t gone yet.”

***

“Whoa, what s all this?”  Koganegawa shouted.

Obara Yutaka barely looked up from his feet as he trudged along to the changing room. It was the fifth day of camp, and he’d thought Futakuchi and Koganegawa might have calmed down by now, but they were as loud as ever and it was making his head hurt. The only plus point at breakfast had been that his senpai, Kamasaki, had been much quieter. But that had been odd because he’d also been staring at him, as had Sasaya-san. For all that he wanted a little attention because he knew he was overshadowed by his peers, Yutaka was unnerved by their glances. Especially the smiles. Sasaya-san was generally grim looking, Kamasaki-san angry. He could cope with that but –

“Obara-kun, you’re a sly one!” Onagawa interrupted his thoughts.

“What?”

“Never thought you’d have it in you.  Hit with the girls, eh?” Futakuchi called out. “You should give Kamasaki-san some tips.”

“What ... sorry, wh-what are you on ab- OH!”

He stared at the lockers, stared at the ... _What the heck is this?_

“Obara-kun, aren’t you pretty in pink?”Futakuchi continued as the rest of the team started laughing and exclaiming with excitement.

“And orange. I think turquoise is more your colour, though. Maybe you should have gone to Aoba-“ Onagawa started to say.

“WHAT IS THIS?” Yutaka shouted, unable to bear anymore of the voices shrieking around him. His head was pounding, the result of four nights with disturbed sleep, and days spent negotiating his way through the tempests that always seemed to blow up in this team.

“It looks like a poster,” Moniwa-san said mildly. “Of you. Well, of several yous. Nine to be exact and in ... uhm ... different colours.” Their captain frowned. “If this is a confession, I wonder how the girl got in. The doors are lock-“

“I CAN SEE WHAT IT IS!” Yutaka yelped. “And no, it won’t be a girl will it? It’s someone’s idea of a bloody joke just because what ... because I’m _me_ you though it was okay to take the piss. Is that what it was?”

Someone laughed. He spun round catching Futakuchi with his hand over his mouth. “YOU, I BET! Can’t resist, can you?  You’re like this in class. So fricking overbearing, pissing around when the rest of us are trying our hardest, but it all comes easy to you, doesn’t it.  So bloody easy-“

He could see movement at the back of the room. Two figures shifting on their feet, one heading towards him, but all he could hear was Futakuchi’s laughter and that ever-present smirk on his face.

“Uh ... what did I do?” he was protesting, but still grinning.

“YOU DENYING IT!” Something snapped in Yutaka. Something that maybe should have snapped a year before when he’d first joined the club and seen Futakuchi cheek his way into a first team place, whilst he stayed watching. Because hell knew he was good enough. He might not be an Ace, but he worked hard, put in the hours at training, didn’t goof around, and yet he’d still had to watch from the sidelines. Only now was he close to getting his chance, and Futakuchi decided it was time to mock him, to tear down any respect he might have with his senpais, with this ludicrous, gaudy, parody of art.

He stared again at a picture of himself coloured violet. Purple had always made him feel sick to his stomach. And he laughed bitterly. He’d even used his team photo, the one thing that made him feel good about something, as if he were a part of this and not an afterthought.

“You bastard, Futak-”

An arm linked under his armpit and hauled him away. “Obara-kun,” muttered Sasaya. “I’m the bastard, not Futakuchi. I –“ He smacked his lips together and took a breath, staring up at his junior. “I apologise.”

“I’ll take it down,” Kamasaki-san was saying, and he placed his hand on Yutaka’s shoulder.  

“You did this,” Moniwa said quietly. Grimly.

“Uh ... yeah.”

“Right. Datekou, get into the gym and start stretching.” He tapped Yutaka on the arm. “They’re idiots.”

“Hey!”

“You are, Kamasaki. A complete idiot. But you,” he faced Sasaya. “Why did you get involved?”

“Honestly?” With his hands on his hips, Sasaya took a small step away, gesturing to Yutaka and then the collage. “Don’t blame Kamasaki-san. It was my idea. I thought, Obara-kun, that you felt a little out of things. You ... um ... you don’t have the same presence as Futakuchi, say, or Aone-kun. And ... um ... while I’m not saying you have to become a mouthy jerk, or a monosyllabic monolith, I did think that if you realised your senpais had actually noticed you, it might give you a bit of a lift.”

“Oh.”

Silence cloaked the room. Yutaka felt his face flush, but he refused to look at his feet, staring straight at Sasaya.

“Clearly I was wrong,” he said at last, and inclined his head. “I’m sorry, Obara-kun, if this has in anyway embarrassed you because that really wasn’t the intention. And ... uh ... I apologise to you, Moniwa-san. I’ll ... um ... stay behind and clear up, or something.”

Moniwa dismissed the rest of whatever he’d been about to say with a weary wave of his hand. “Obara-kun,” he said, “go and join the others.”

“B-but.” He stopped and swallowed the objection before it left his lips, hoping that no one had noticed.

But Kamasaki clapped him on the back. “Don’t go frettin’ ‘bout it, Obara-kun. Ya just showed those mouthy jerks that you c’n stand ya ground. And that’ll go a long way to raisin’ yer profile, ‘k?”

“Sure.” He turned away, but as he reached the door, Yutaka glanced back at his three senpais, all of whom were watching him. Moniwa with fretful concern, Kamasaki with a hint of a grin wrapped in a snarl, and Sasaya with what looked like regret.  He bowed to them and stepped out of the changing room, ducking behind the door to take a few steadying breaths before he braved the gym.

“What were you thinking?” he heard Moniwa-san say.

“Like I said,” Sasaya replied. “It was something to boost his self-awareness, I guess.” He laughed, a touch bitterly. “I know what it’s like to be overlooked. I played with you guys for long enough.”

“Twat!” Kamasaki muttered.

“Tosser!” Sasaya replied. Then the laughter stopped being bitter. “Kaname-kun, I got caught up in something. A random act of kindness and thought this was my way to pay it forward.”

“And in the process nearly tore the team apart,” Moniwa said wearily.

“Nah, they’re good,” Kamasaki breezed. “You worry too much. There are a few dickheads, but Obara’s decent enough, and Aone-kun’ll beat ‘em into submission.”

_He’s remembered my name._

“Wish I could be so sure,” replied Moniwa gloomily. “We’ve worked so hard, trying to restore our impregnable fortress. But what happens when we leave?”

Hearing footsteps, Yutaka shrank further along the wall, disappearing into the toilet before they realised he’d been listening. Moniwa walked ahead of his fellow third years, straight into the gym, while Kamasaki stopped by the bin to stuff the offending collage in it.

“Take-chan, one question?”

“Mmm?”

“Why were ya payin’ it forward to Obara?”

“Uh... I thought he deserved it. Why not?” he replied and shrugged.

“’Cause ... uh ... It’s _one_ random act o kindness, and ya already paid it.”

“What?”

Intrigued, Yutaka opened the toilet door a touch, catching a glimmer of Sasaya’s confused expression, which mirrored Kamasaki’s.

“My new training programme. The one you agreed to partner me on. You wrote that, didn’t you?”

“Not me, Kamachi.” Sasaya slowly shook his head, and frowned. “Hold on, is that why you asked me because you thought I’d written it?”

“I  ... er ... th- thought that was why you’d agreed,” Kamasaki spluttered. “Hell, ya don’t have t’.”

“N-no, I’d ... um ... like to,” Sasaya said, and though he’d walked past the door and out of Yutaka’s line of vision, he could tell he was smiling.

“We must have two angels performing acts of kindness, then,” he said, his voice getting fainter as they approached the gym.

Kamasaki stopped. “Hell!” he snarled. “That means I still gotta find someone. Fuck it! I’ll get left with a jerk, won’t I?”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At his final Training Camp, Moniwa Kaname reflects on how little time he has left to meld a winning team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Datekou week on tumblr, the prompt used was 'Time'.

Futakuchi was strangely quiet at lunch, Moniwa Kaname thought.

That wasn’t exactly true. He’d bounded in to eat, traded the usual insults with Onogawa, and then beamed his smile across the table before helping himself to an array of food.

Then his phone had rung, and although Coach Oiwake-san disapproved of answering calls during the day, he’d let this one pass with a small nod.  Futakuchi had returned with a scowl replacing his smirk, and a depressed set to his shoulders.

He’d recovered his bounce soon enough, but Kaname had noticed the blip because he noticed everything these days. He noticed the way Aone would grunt a thank you when someone handed him the water jug. He noticed Sakunami waiting patiently for the rice to be passed his way, and Koganegawa desperate to eat but waiting for his senpais to start. And he’d seen a change in Takehito recently, a degree of edginess, which had seen him lose his cool more frequently than he ever had before. Kaname noticed because he was trying to capture these last precious days, which he knew would be over soon enough.

And that was where his problem lay.

_We have so little time._

Koganegawa was listening to a joke Onagawa was telling, unsure whether he should laugh yet.

_I should be working with him more. And Kamasaki needs to help Onagawa._

Obara was attempting to have a conversation with Aone – not the best choice when trying to forge stronger ties, was Kaname’s initial thought – but to his surprise, Aone rewarded the Wing Spiker with a comment and a nod.  

_Have I underestimated you, Obara-kun? Is it too late? Or has yesterday’s storm cleared the air?_

Then Futakuchi leant across the table, and Obara avoided his gaze.

_Ah, not yet. I need to think how to mend that._

“Yo!” A hand clapped him on the back.

“Kamasaki- kun,” he greeted him and shuffled along the bench. “Late for lunch.”

“Extra workout,” he said, and with a grimace, he flexed his bicep. “Feel that.”

“Do I have to?  I’m eating,” Kaname complained, then smiled because he knew Kamasaki wasn’t serious. “Is Sasaya with you?”

“Yeah, he was.”  Kamasaki yawned, not covering his mouth as he reached for the noodles.

“He is taking it easy, isn’t he?”

“Uh-huh. We ain’t running much. It’s more weights and crunches.” Shovelling food on his plate, he paused before adding. “Don’t worry so much. I’m keepin’ an eye on him, just like Coach-san ordered. Takehito’s fine. ”

_I need him more than just ‘fine’! We have to be at our peak. Don’t you get-_

“Don’t scowl at me!” Kamasaki snapped, his tone causing the team to look up. He flashed them all a glare, his eyes lingering on Futakuchi, who didn’t flinch, and then Kamasaki grinned. “Moniwa-kun, stop frettin’ so much. Yer gettin’ wrinkles.”

Deciding not to reply, Kaname finished off his lunch with a last swig of juice and got to his feet. “I need to talk to you and Sasaya-kun.”

“Sounds serious. Ya bawlin’ us out again? Gonna make us clean the gym floor with toothbrushes.”

He inhaled, trying to quell the irritation he felt when Kamasaki took the piss. “No. I just want to make sure we’re pulling together.”

“Hey!” Kamasaki grabbed his arm, the grin gone. “We’re a team. ‘Course we’re together.”

“We are at the moment,” Kaname said wearily. His eyes flickered towards the others, none of whom were paying him any attention, although Obara looked rather too interested in his food, as if he’d suddenly looked away.  “But what happens when we’re gone, Kamachi?”

***

Yutaka inhaled sharply, squared his shoulders and re-entered the dining room. There were only two occupants left now as everyone had left for the gym, but although he’d no doubt he’d get in trouble for being late (he was supposed to be working on serves with the Oiwake-san) the chance to catch these two together was too good an opportunity to miss.

He coughed to announce his presence, and was rewarded with a quick back glance and then a double take when Sasaya realised who it was.

“Obara-kun, how can I help?”

“Uh...” He bowed stiffly. “I ... um ... I need ... I want ... I-I-I-”

_Great, this is going well then!_

“If it’s about yesterday...”

“No, no, not at all Sasaya-san. Um ... well, yes, it is sort of about yesterday, but n-not about the ... er ... pictures. That’s all f-fine now.”

“Told ya!” Kamasaki said, nudging Sasaya with his elbow. “This kid’s cool.”

“He said it was ‘sort of about yesterday’,” Sasaya remarked. “That doesn’t necessarily mean Obara-kun is cool about our ... er ... act of kindness, at all.” He smiled a little gingerly. “Take a seat. Have another drink.”

“Uh ... no ... I need to get to serve practise. I ... um ...” 

_Get on with it._

“Kamasaki-san, Sasaya-san, I hope you don’t think I am being at all impertinent.”

“Oh-oh – here it comes. When someone comes out with stuff like that, I just know they’re gonna come out with somethin’ rude,” Kamasaki said. “Bring it on, kouhai!”

There was something quite _un_ scary about facing his senpais after yesterday, so he took a step closer and fixed his eyes on theirs. “I overheard you yesterday,” he began, then picked up the pace before they interrupted. “It was after the ... er ... incident, and you were talking about having to pay the act of kindness forward. Kamasaki-san, you mentioned having to reciprocate and-”

“Recipro-what?”

“Reciprocate,” Sasaya muttered. “It’s the same as paying it forward.”

“Ah, cool. Uh ... yeah, I mighta said that.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m guessin’ you heard me talkin’ about the team.”

He nodded, then tried a smile. “Kamasaki-san, that you don’t get along with Futakuchi-kun isn’t news. And I’m not here to tell you who you should recipr... er ... pay it forward to, but I have a few ideas.”

“Intriguing, young Obara-kun. Are you sure you won’t sit down?”

“No. Thank-you Sasaya-san. I merely wanted to suggest that we work together for someone worthwhile.”

“Work together. For one person?” Kamasaki scowled. “Ain’t that short-changin’ someone else, though?”

“If it works, then it will benefit everyone,” Yutaka replied. “But I need your help, Kamasaki-senpai.”

“Why?”

“The simple answer is that you’re louder and they pay attention to you.”

***

“What do you think?” Takehito asked when Obara had gone.

Since Kamasaki had embarked on a new training programme and Takehito had strained his calf, they’d been given some leeway by the Oiwake regarding the time they returned for team practise. Time that Takehito was fully intending to use to not think about volleyball, but as this was Training Camp, there wasn’t much else to talk about.

“You know what Moniwa’s like. Always worryin’ ‘bout somethin’.” Kamasaki speared another chestnut, and crunched it in his mouth. He swallowed, then wiped his mouth on a napkin, not quite catching all the sauce. “He was askin’ me if we could meet up, though, so ... yeah ... won’t do any harm.”

“You’ve got ... er ... something ...” Takehito faltered, but he’d mentioned it now, so he grinned a little helplessly and picked up his own napkin, and pressed it on Kamasaki’s  chin.“You’re wearing that sauce, Kamachi!”

“Alright, Mom!” He scowled, then laughed. “Maybe I was savin’ it for later.”

He reached over and with his fingers picked up a few peeled lychees. He threw one high in the air, catching it in his mouth, then threw another.  It bounced off his nose, landing in Takehito’s tea.

“UGH! You fuckwit!”

“Lighten up!”

“Jeez, you’re gross! Watching you eat is like feeding time at the zoo.”

“And yet ya still here, Take-chan!” he retorted. “Admit it, I liven things up, don’t I?”

Picking out the lychee, Takehito made a show of getting himself another cup, all the while squishing the fruit in his palm.

“You do that all right, Kamachi,” he said, putting on a mournful face.

And then, just as Kamasaki grinned Takehito slapped the lychee on his forehead, and dodged the inevitable punch.

“Twatahito!”

“Kamashitti!”

“Yer insults are shit. You’d think they’d have improved since first year,” Kamasaki moaned as he peeled off the fruit and flicked it across the table.

Takehito sipped his tea, letting the warmth wash over him. Reminiscences were becoming all too frequent these days, which he supposed was inevitable. Last Training Camp, last meals as a team, last dumb conversations that had nothing to do with volleyball, last argument, last...

“What did ya think of me that first day?”

“Uh...” He took his time replying, but really, if he couldn’t be honest now ... “I didn’t like you much, gotta admit. You were so goddamn loud.”

“You were a prick,” countered Kamasaki, but not nastily. “Kind of tightly wound and closed up. But ya always looked so disapprovin’. Made me wanna shout louder.” He leant closer. “So ... what changed? ‘Cause I seem to remember you started talkin’ to me and not raisin’ yer eyebrows every time I opened my gob.”

“I really was a prick, wasn’t I?” Takehito mused, remembering just how irritated he’d been when he’d turned up for practise to find Kamasaki already arguing with a second year. Because, no, he shouldn’t have argued with a senpai, but on the other hand, Kamasaki had been correct and should have been given credit.

“I watched you play in a three-on-three,” he replied at last. “You beat all those snotty second-years into submission and I thought ‘Hell, yeah!’” Finishing his tea, he placed it carefully on the table, and then shuffled his legs on the bench so he sat astride it, facing his friend.  “I think Obara has the right idea.”

Kamasaki’s sigh became a groan. “Yeah, maybe. Just ... I was thinkin’...”

“Go on,” Takehito urged.

Kamasaki laughed a little. “I was waitin’ for you to say ‘Stop that’ or ‘You know it hurts when you think, Kamachi!’”  he mimicked.

“Yeah, well, maybe that joke’s a bit tired,” Takehito murmured. He touched Kamasaki lightly on the arm, and then hurriedly turned it into a soft punch, hoping it would come across as a supportive gesture.  “What’s your idea?”

“We’re runnin’ out of time, ain’t we? To become a decent team for Inter-Highs, I mean. We’re good, but we ain’t Shiratorizawa level. Maybe for Spring, but ... uh ... _we_ won’t be there, and I ain’t sure these kids’ll be ready.  So ...” He gulped at the air, and watching him close, Takehito thought he saw tears mixed in with the grim determination in his eyes. “I know you and Moniwa have gotta leave. Both o’ ya college bound, so ya need to concentrate on grades. But ... uh ...I could stay on.”

“And fuck up your own future? Absolutely not!” Takehito said vehemently.

“Hey, it ain’t like I got anythin’ important planned. This team’s about it for me.”

Not caring now what way he might be perceived, Takehito leant closer, placing his hands on Kamasaki’s shoulders. “You have apprenticeships to apply for, Kamachi, and that’s just as important as any poxy college degree. And they’re not going to look at you if your mind’s on volleyball.”

He watched as Kamasaki closed his eyes, and thought for a moment that he’d dipped his head closer, but then he groaned and gave half a grin. “Guess we gotta do it Obara-kun’s way, dammit!”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aone takes a bus journey home which takes a surprising turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for hqdatekouweek using the prompt 'travel'.

Training Camp had finished for another year, and as Aone Takanobu picked up his bag from the team coach, he felt a chill blowing through him. It wasn’t just that it was cold and the rain had started to fall again, but as the team disembarked, members going their separate ways, he felt disconsolate.

It would be quiet soon.

At camp and at school there was always someone around. Even if he didn’t talk, someone else would. There’d be chatter, laughter, shouts of frustration, and best of all the sound of the ball landing with a satisfactory thump on the opposite side of the net.

Takanobu would drink it all in, storing the sounds deep inside, reliving the best moments in the dead of night when everything around him was silent.

That was the other thing about Camp. He wasn’t alone at night. Even if they were asleep, he’d hear snoring, or sleep talking, and people getting up in the night for the bathroom, or a drink or maybe to talk. Takanobu would lie on his back and stare at the ceiling, drifting off with an almost smile on his lips.

At Camp, he slept soundly. At home, it would take an age to drop off.

 

 “Aone-kun, do you need a lift anywhere? Only my father is here,” Moniwa-san asked, staring up at him.

Takanobu shook his head. “There is a bus.”

“Ah ... yes, well, as long as you’re happy with that.” He turned away and then must have thought better of it, because he span back on his heel to face Takanobu. “Thank you, for all your hard work. The Iron Wall won’t disgrace Datekou this year, I know it.”

Not quite sure how to respond, Takanobu nodded and grunted something.  His captain almost gulped, and his smile faltered, but then he rallied, gave an odd sort of wave before heading off towards his father.  

Hoisting his bag over his shoulder, Takanobu left through the back gates of the school, and headed towards the bus stop.  The rain had worsened; fat drops splatting with unceasing rhythm on the pavement, splashing up his tracksuit bottoms. He could feel his left sock getting wet and sighed to himself because he’d hoped to make this pair of trainers last a little longer this time, but it was clear he had another hole  in the bottom where the water was seeping through.

His mother would not be happy about having to buy another pair. He could hear her now. _(‘I’m not made of money, Takanobu. Why can’t you make a pair of shoes last beyond two months!’_?)

As the bus rounded the corner, he increased the length of his stride arriving at the stop just before the bus arrived. He could hear squeals, and an anxious cry, so as the bus came to a halt, he turned his head. In the distance were two figures, a woman and a child, he thought, both small, both slight, running for all they were worth in the peltering rain.

“You gettin’ on, or what?” asked the driver.  Then he looked at Takanobu properly, starting from his feet and sliding up to his face. “I don’t want no trouble.”

Nodding, he got on the bus, flashing his pass at the driver, but before moving down to find a seat, he hesitated aware the driver wouldn’t move while he stood there.

“You need to find a seat,” he ordered, and despite the glass separating them, the driver cringed back against his window.

“There’s someone else com-”

“OH!  We just made it!” The woman he’d seen in the road, leapt on the bus, dragging her child with her. Both had identical smiles, wide and beaming. “Wouldn’t have wanted to wait in this rain for an hour, would you, sweetheart?”

Having heard enough, not wanting to watch their smiles falter when they realised he was there, Takanobu shifted along to the back of the bus. It wasn’t too crowded, and there were several empty seats he could have sat in, but as he approached, the occupants of the other seats would stretch a little, or place a bag on the spare. He shrugged. He was used to it, knowing his height put people off. But he doubted it affected Kenji in this way.

There were times when Takanobu wished he had Kenji’s ability to annoy everyone because at least people would change their facial expressions when dealing with him. They’d soften or sharpen, depending on whether they were annoyed or laughing. No one looked blankly or fearfully at Kenji.

The back seat row was empty, so he headed there, knowing that at least he had the option to stretch out and avoid people staring, unless they turned their heads in a really obvious way (and they’d flinch as soon as he stared back).

“Find seats for us, darling. Mummy’s got to find her purse,” he heard the lady say, apologising to the driver as she rummaged through her bag.

“Okay, Mummy,” the child – no girl – trilled, as she skipped down the aisle of the bus, all smiles and giggles.

Takanobu watched her as she decided, her head bobbing up and down, causing raindrops to patter off her bright pink rain hat and onto the floor.  An old lady tutted as one solitary drop splashed her skirt, and Takanobu’s eyes narrowed, but the girl hadn’t noticed and edged further down the bus, looking for two seats together.

And then she spied him. Or more specifically, she spied the back seat, and the space there, for not only her and her mother, but also the bags of shopping and her small pink rucksack. He waited for the inevitable backing away, because even though he’d tried to shrink himself into the window, he knew what would happen. She’d see him, falter, glance around for her ‘mummy’, maybe even cry, or gasp or –

She gasped. He closed his eyes and sighed, wondering if she’d burst into tears.

“OOOOH!  Do you play volleyball?”

“Uh...” His eyes flew open, and in total shock, he scrambled to think of a reply, because the small girl was not only talking to him, but she’d sat in the middle of the back row and was now shining her bright smile onto him.

Her eyes were blue and sparkling, there were raindrops on the lashes, and on her nose, highlighting a smattering of freckles on her nose.

“Darling, don’t bother the man,” her mother said, coming up the aisle, sounding breathless.

“B-but he plays volleyball. Look, they’re volleyball shoes!”

“So they are,” the mother replied, and with a small flick of her head, she stared at his bag. “You’re in high school?”

“Mmm.”  He nodded, still utterly confused because now the girl’s mother had sat on the back seat and didn’t look in the least as if she was about to move. Instead, she lifted her bags on the seat nearest the window.

“I like volleyball!” the girl declared and grinned again. “It’s cool and fun and exciting and cool and ... and ... and ... really cool people play it!”

“You p-play?” he found himself saying, his voice shaking.

Her face fell, the corners of her mouth turning down. “I’m seven and they don’t play it at my school. It’s not fair!”

“One day when you get to big school, maybe you can,” he muttered.

“Yes,” she breathed out a sigh, the sort of sigh he’d heard from girls when Keiji walked past. (That was before they knew him and realised just what a pain in the arse he was. Then the sighs would be growls of frustration.)

“I’m going to be a ...” She bit her lip, concentrating hard. “A Middle Blocker!”

“Really?” He laughed, the sound odd to his ears, like another language erupting from his mouth.

“You think that’s funny!”

“No...” He tried a smile, even though he knew that would be the one way to scare her away for good, but the girl was made of sterner stuff and glowered back.

“I am a Middle Blocker,” he continued, his eyes darting to her mother, who smiled mildly at him. “It is the best position. Very ... uh ... cool.”

“I think so,” she said carelessly.

Unzipping the rucksack on her lap, she pulled out a small bag, then with no hesitation thrust it towards him. “Would you like a sweetie? They’re yummy and I haven’t poisoned them!”

“Uh ...” He shook his head in confusion. “Why ... uh ... why would you ...”

“You must forgive my daughter. I tell her she mustn’t accept sweets from strangers in case they’re ... um ... poisoned.”

“Oh ... I’ll ... uh ... No thank you,” he muttered at last.

The mother laughed. “She really hasn’t poisoned them,” she stage-whispered. “And I won’t mind if you’d like one. They’re toffees.”

He accepted one, popping it into his mouth and letting the sweet, buttery taste tantalise his tongue.  The pair of them chewed companionably for a few minutes, Takanobu listening as the little girl still chatted away, telling him how she wanted to join a volleyball club, but they lived too far away for her to make it more than once a week. (She scowled again at that, jerking away when her mother laughed and gave her a cuddle.)

And he wondered, as the bus came to halt at the bottom of his road, if that was the way most parents behaved with their child. If cuddling and toffees and laughter were what had made this girl so endearing and unafraid of a stranger on a bus.

“This is my stop,” he said, stooping a little to avoid banging his head. He held out his hand, and bowed to both of them. “It has been a pleasure to meet you.”

“Me too,” she chirped, and with another grin, instead of shaking his hand, placed two more toffees in his palm. “Good luck with volleyball!”

He smiled as he disembarked and took slow strides up his road. It was still raining, but the sunshine in her smile had warmed him as surely as if it had been summer.

It was only when he reached his house, facing the black mausoleum-like door, that he remembered Obara and Sakunami.

‘Pay it forward.’ Those had been the words on the note.

A random act of kindness, but in his case not so random.

His heart and spirits, which had been so lifted, dropped again. They’d done well, coaching the girl, but the knowledge she’d been part of an act - however well-meaning - made him hollow.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this, if you have stuck with it. And if you haven't, then ... um ... why are you reading the end notes? 
> 
> It's actually been a hard slog getting to this stage. And I'm nearly done, so, yeah, your support is very welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only one left who hasn't had a chapter, so ...
> 
> Futakuchi Kenji returns from Camp gloomy because he has an appointment with doom AKA the dentist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 7 of Datekou week. The prompt was The Iron Wall.
> 
> If you hadn't realised, each player's Act of Kindness related to their current concern, so in order of chapters.
> 
> Koganegawa - can't pull off a dump shot in a way that looks cool (Uptown Funk is the coolest song I could think of)  
> Sakunami - would like to be taller (me too, bby)  
> Onagawa - his mum keeps buying low-calorie pot noodle (this was hard!)  
> Sasaya - Has been told he gives off an 'old man' vibe. (I adore you, though)  
> Kamasaki - How many packs of abs are possible? (eight, I checked)  
> Obara - worries he doesn't have as much presence as the other second years (pfft, you're important, sweetheart)  
> Aone - no one sits with him on the train or bus (I would!)  
> Moniwa - the second years (sigh ... they get better.)  
> Futakuchi - he has to have his wisdom teeth removed. (not much I can do about that, Kenji, sorry.)

For once, Futakuchi Kenji did not wake up with a smile on his face. Usually he woke happy, greeting each day with a laugh because he never quite knew what lay ahead.  It drove the people who knew him crazy because he was unfailingly cheery in the mornings, singing at the top of his voice in the bathroom, slapping his brothers one the back and tweaking the bow on his sister’s hair, kissing his mum on the cheek, and bellowing a hello to his grandma. Kenji’s dad, unable to talk until he’d had at least two cups of black coffee would scowl at his son, but knew better than to tell him to ‘pipe down’ because from bitter experience he knew that only made him worse.

He was the second child. The baby that had slept well,  never giving his parents any cause for worry (unlike his older brother who’d screamed with colic for three months, or his baby sister who’d been a fussy eater and even worse sleeper) so early on they’d fallen into a false sense of security with him, thinking their precious Kenji-chan would never cause them trouble.

Then he learnt to talk.

And since that day he’d plagued them all with his smart remarks and never-ending jokes.

So it was somewhat of a relief for his family when he’d woken up two months before Golden Week to find he couldn’t open his mouth.

“Hel  eee!”  he gargled.

“Talk properly, Kenji! I don’t have time for anymore nonsense.”

“Uuunggg – hel ee!”

“Help you?  Why?” His mum’s face lost its exasperated look as she faced him, her brows knotting in concern.

“Can’t ove ngyy outh.”

“What?”

“I think,” Kenji’s younger brother, Saburou, said, smiling sweetly as he tucked into his rice, “that Niichan’s saying he can’t move his mouth.”

Kenji nodded furiously, and then winced. There was a pain in his gums, made worse when he moved.  He flashed his mum an imploring look, gratified when she touched his cheek with her fingertips.

“Poor baby, those wisdom teeth are causing problems for you, aren’t they? We really must get you to the dentist.”

_Oh, noooooo!_

 

It had been an ongoing problem since he’d turned sixteen and they’d first started to come through, and while the dentist had initially been reluctant to extract them while he was still growing, (‘Your mouth is quite big enough – Futakuchi-kun!’) one had started to grow at an angle, impacting itself against a molar. The recurrent bouts of infection, which caused his gum to swell, had led to time off school and – more importantly for Kenji – time away from practise.

So it was imperative he had the troublesome tooth removed. If it flared up pre-match, or during a match, then Datekou’s chances would be hampered. He didn’t boast (okay – he did and quite a lot, but then he had a lot to boast about) but Kenji was vital to the team.

Although that didn’t stop him being shit scared of the dentist.

And he’d already wriggled out of two dates for the operation, forcing his mum to postpone.

 

It was the day after Golden Week had ended. He’d returned from a high old time at Training Camp, really pleased with not only his progress, but the team’s. He’d joked around with Onagawa, teased Koganegawa, battled with Kamasaki and been genuinely delighted when Sakunami had stopped looking so anxious about his place and had smiled as if he belonged.

And he’d been so looking forward to going back to the Datekou gym for their first practise after camp, because camp had been incredible this year. So much fun. So much lifting of spirits and unexpected partnerships.

It was a shame he and Obara hadn’t clicked, but really if the guy was going to get so tetchy all the time, and then to outright accuse Kenji of trying to undermine him. And NOT apologise, well, why should Kenji go out of his way to patch something up that had never knitted together anyway?

  _Except Moniwa-san wanted us to get on, so maybe I should tone it down. Maybe I should make the first move. Even if it wasn’t my fault._

“I should do that now!” he said, and grinned.  “Yes, I need to make amends with Obara immediately. It’s for the good of the team, and Moniwa-san will be so happy. And the Iron Wall won’t be in danger of crumbling because Obara-kun and I can work together. And that is so much more important than –“

“Kenji, are you ready?”

_Oh shit!_

“Uh... in a minute, Mum. I’m just ... uh ... putting on my ... shoes.”

“They’re down here,” she called up the stairs, her voice taking on a sterner tone. “Kenji, you’re not going to be silly now, are you?”

“Other shoes!” he called back. His eyes flicked from side-to-side, trying to work out his next move.

The window.  The drain pipe. Yes, that would do.

“Kenji!”

“Hold on...” His hand was on the window latch, easing it open slowly, hoping it wouldn’t squeak and give the game away.

“DON’T YA EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!”

“KAMASAKI!  Wh-what the hell are you doing here?” he yelled.

His bedroom door flew open and the scowling figure of his nemesis glowered into the room.

“Get away from that window, kouhai!” Kamasaki ordered.

“Uh ...” He blinked. Was he dreaming?  Or rather, was he in the middle of some nightmare, plagued by not only the dentist, but Mr Brawn- instead- of -Brains as well?

He could still make it. Kamasaki might be stronger, but Kenji was faster (his muscle slowed him down). He could unlatch the window, slither down the drainpipe and be halfway over the garden fence before Kamasaki had registered.

“I wouldn’t,” said another, far more measured, voice.

“Sasaya-san, uh ... how ... um ... surprising to see you here.”  He could still make it. Kamasaki wouldn’t move out of the way quick enough for Sasaya to get through. He could –

“If you look out of the window, you’ll see some of your teammates,” Sasaya continued.

In horror, Kenji scanned the garden. Through the gaps in the fence, he could see glimmers of teal and white, and peering over the top, he saw a thatch of yellowy hair with a tuft of black sticking up at all angles.

“You don’t want to get caught running away by your kouhai, Futakuchi-kun,” Sasaya murmured.

“Running away? What makes you think that?” he bluffed, flicking his hair off his face and flashing them a smirk.

“The fact yer foot was on the windersill might have somethin’ to do with it,” Kamasaki muttered.

He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even laughing or mocking Kenji for his foiled escape attempt. Instead, Kamasaki looked half way to angry but also concerned. And it was that, more than anything, which stopped Kenji in his tracks.

“Why is everyone here?” he asked.

“Because we need you healthy for the team,” Sasaya replied quietly. “You really can’t put this off any longer, Futa-kun.”

“And I’d kinda like to see ya swollen up and unable to talk,” Kamasaki butted in.

“Uh ...” Kenji shook his head. “There is no bloody way that you’re coming with me, old man!”

“How ya gonna stop me? I got the Iron Wall on my side!”

He stared out of the window again, now spotting Takanobu and Onagawa, the latter grinning up at him.

_Dammit!_

 

“How did you know where I was going?” he asked later.

They were walking down the road to the dentist, most of the team gathered around him, only Moniwa-san was missing.

“That guy figured it out,” Kamasaki muttered, and pointed to Obara, standing on the edge of the group, eyes on the road ahead. “He said you’d got a call at Camp, and figured it was somethin’ important ‘cause the Coach let ya take it.”

“Oiwake-san had already told Moniwa and Kamasaki you wouldn’t be available for practise for three days and Obara remembered you were supposed to have had your tooth removed last month but had skipped it,” Sasaya chipped in. He lowered his voice. “I don’t blame you. I hate the dentist, too.”

“Obara remembered that, huh?” He cast his eyes sideways, watching his fellow Wing Spiker. “That’s ... um ...”

“He meant it to be a good thing, whatever you think of the dentist, or of Obara, he wants the team to succeed as much as you do,” Sasaya whispered, then nudged his arm. “Go and speak to him.”

But as he hesitated, Takanobu, at the head of the group, came to a halt.  He turned to face them all, not exactly frowning, but still terrifying in his silence.

“Uh, this isn’t the dentist,” Kenji called. “Why have we stopped?”

It was Obara who answered, turning his head and facing Kenji for the first time, and a small smile fleetingly swept across his face. “We’re missing someone, Futakuchi-kun.”

 

Kaname wasn’t sure what to expect when Kamasaki had texted him to be at home at ten. As a rule, he didn’t hang around with his vice-captain outside of school and practise. They had very little in common, although they rubbed along well enough with each other, and there were never any of the issues he’d thought might occur when he’d been made Captain ahead of him.

So the text had come as a bit of a surprise, especially as when he’d pressed further, wanting to know what the problem was, how it affected the team, and did he need to provide anything, Kamasaki had gone silent, not replying to texts or the frantic call Moniwa had made.

He was looking out of his front room window when they arrived. He spotted Aone first, then – to his surprise – Obara-kun, who was gesturing to Futakuchi before facing the house and half smiling.

“What’s going on?” Kaname shouted when he opened the window.

“We’re marchin’ our kouhai to the dentist, Moniwa-kun,” yelled Kamasaki, his grin broad. He had his arm across Futakuchi’s shoulders, drawing him in close as if to stop him running away, even though their kouhai didn’t look as if he were about to escape, facing his captain with a bigger grin.

“It’s an intervention!” Sasaya told him.

“For Futakuchi?” Kaname queried, still from the window. “He looks happy enough.”

“No, for you,” Sasaya replied. “Come on.”

He pulled on his shoes, grabbed a jacket, and after writing a note for his mum, ran out of the door, tripping on his lace. Aone caught him, grabbing his arm before he crashed to the pavement, setting him up straight with the minimum of fuss before stepping away and giving a respectful bow.

“Does it need all of us?” he asked, now worried because everyone was there, everyone except the coach, and ... were they really going to the dentist, or was this an elaborate joke?

“Yes, it does,” Sasaya said, and pointed to Obara. “You explain. It was your plan.”

Obara took a breath, rolling back his shoulders and flushing slightly now that he was the centre of attention.

“Senpai,” he began, then inclined his head to Futakuchi, “we are here as a team exercise. Futakuchi-kun needs to go to the dentist and is a little scared-”

“HEY!  I’m not scared, all right!”

“You were climbin’ out the window,” Kaname heard Kamasaki mutter, as his hand gripped Futakuchi’s sleeve.

“Wary,” Obara backtracked hastily “Futakuchi-kun is understandably wary of going to the dentist because it will mean he misses practise.”  He cleared his throat. “But ... er ... the rest of us know how essential he is to the team, and we want him well, even if when he has toothache he stops talking.”

“Oi!  I am here, you know!”

“Shaddup!” Kamasaki slapped him lightly on the back of the head, before ruffling his hair. “Let yer classmate finish.”

“Um ...” Obara shuffled his feet. “Th-that was it, really.”

“No ...” Sasaya stepped towards him, cupping his hand to his mouth so he could whisper.

“OH!  Yes, sorry.” Obara grinned sheepishly, and Kaname was struck with how different he looked when he was truly engaged with the team, not stuck on the outside. “Moniwa-san. I think you’re worried about the team. In particular, you’re worried about its future, but as you can see, we pull together, even if it has nothing to do with volleyball.” He hesitated, then stepped closer to Futakuchi, and held out his hand. “I’m sorry I lost my temper with you.”

For a second, Futakuchi stared at him blankly and Kaname wondered if he was going to snub him, but then he broke into a beam of a smile, and clasped his hand. “Nah, it’s cool. Just so you know, if I’d wanted to take the piss out of you, I’d have been far more creative.”

“You’d have dyed my hair teal, wouldn’t you?”

“OOOH, not a bad idea, Yutake-chan, not bad at all...Maybe over summer we can put our heads together.”

“Don’t give him ideas!” Kaname cried.

“Too late,” Sasaya muttered, “he’s already eyeing up Kogane-kun. Let’s just be thankful we won’t be around.”

There was a silence between the third years, and then Kamasaki coughed.

 “Hey, Futakuchi-kun, this was a random act o’ kindness from me, ya got that, so you need to be a little more respectful to yer senpais, and t’e me in particular! You, Moniwa-san, don’t need t’ worry,” he continued, “’cause we reckon ya do that every day, worryin’ about us.”

Touched by them all, Kaname tried to block away the sudden tears forming in his eyes, but it was no use. He bent to the ground to do up his shoelace, and then something struck him.

“What is this random act of kindness thing?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as throaty to their ears as his. “You were talking about it at Camp, Sasaya.”

Sasaya shrugged. “Let’s walk and talk,” he said, waiting by Kaname’s side.

As Kaname tightened his lace and got to his feet, the team started to walk, Aone leading the way, his eyes grimly on path ahead.

 _Is he okay?_   Kaname wondered, but then he spent a lot of time wondering about his team, especially the second years, and yet here they all were, and the two he most worried about were now laughing together, working as a team.

“All I know is one of the kouhais sent me a shirt,” Sasaya began.

“And me a trainin’ schedule,” Kamasaki butted in. He flapped his hands at them all. “We don’t know more than that, maybe this lot can explain.”

“Surely the point is that it’s random?” Onagawa said, faltering a little as he glanced at Kamasaki. “Do we really need to know?”

“Is that yer confession, Onoagawa-kun?” Kamasaki demanded, and started laughing when the he flushed an ugly shade of puce. “It’s cool, ya know. And ya gave Sasaya-san the shirt, did ya? ‘Cause he weren’t too happy at first, but now he’s ownin’ those abs in it, ain’t ya?”

“No, that was Saku... uh...” Even more flustered, Onagawa stopped walking, and flashed the Libero a despairing look. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It was me, Sasaya-senpai,” Sakunami muttered and gulped. “I didn’t mean to be impertinent.”

“I sort of had the idea,” Onagawa admitted, stepping in front of Saknami. “So ... uh ... don’t take it out on him.”

“I’m not. It was fine. I sure as hell don’t look fifty in that thing. Even Kamasaki thinks I’m cool.”

“Would go so far as to say that,” Kamasaki catcalled. Then he grinned again. “Okay, so you two musta had angels sendin’ you things, too, right?”

“A Pot noodle and bonsai tree,” interrupted Futakuchi before the pair of them could speak. “We were there, weren’t we, Taka-kun?”

Aone didn’t grunt a reply, or even turn their way, but there was a faint nod, an incline of his head, which gnawed at Kaname again. Not that anyone else noticed. The rest of the team’s attention was directed inwards, laughing as they tried to work out who had done what.

“Kenji, did you send the bonsai tree? Only you were desperate for sour gummies.”

“No, not me.”

“Aone-san?” suggested Sakunami, but if Aone heard, he gave no indication of it. “He ... um ... knew what the bonsai tree meant.”

“‘Cause he’s smart,” Futakuchi said. He was frowning now, catching Kaname’s eye then glancing at Aone. “But he didn’t leave the dorm that early so couldn’t have bought them for you.”

“That’s true,” Obara put in. “The first person up was ...” He stopped walking and swirled around until he grabbed Konegawa’s arm. “You got up early, didn’t you? You said it was for a jog, but I heard money jangling in your pocket.”

“Uhm ... I might have done,” said a very flustered Koganegawa. He was shuffling his feet and trying to make himself smaller, but hiding his embarrassment behind Sakunami was never going to work, not with Onagawa there.

He burst into laughter. “I knew I overheard someone when we were talking, Saku-chan. That pot-noodle was excellent, Kogane-kun. But ... uh ... why did you do two acts of kindness?  Was it because you heard us both talking?”

“N-n-no. Not exactly,” Koganegawa stuttered. He swallowed, bit his lip then twisted his fingers together. “Um ... I ... um ... don’t want to get anyone in trouble, so ... um ... I don’t want to say.”

“Trouble?”

“Did someone give ya somethin’ illegal, Kogane-kun?” asked Kamasaki, intrigued, and very slightly alarmed. “Uh, seriously, what’ja get?”

“Oh ... um ... no, not illegal, but Coach-san said we weren’t allowed electronics, and someone left me an iPod.” He stared meaningfully at Sakunami, then looked away. “It had a song on it and a note telling me to find my rhythm.”

“And that explains why you had to pay forward two acts how?” Sasaya asked, shaking his head and smiling. “Kogane-kun, it was one act, so why did you buy gifts for two people?”

“Pay it forward, the note said. Um ...” His mouth knotted through forty convulsions before he could speak again, and even then, he sounded strangled. “Sakunami-kun knew I needed to find my rhythm, he suggested it, and then he went away while we were practising and the iPod appeared. And so I had to pay it forward, but I also wanted to buy him something because he’s my friend and –”  he gulped for breath  “and he’s been so kind and supports me and was practising when everyone else had gone so I needed to thank him as well and-”

“WE GET IT!” Kamasaki yelled, but he was laughing. “I don’t think ya guardian angel was Sakunami, though.” He grinned evilly. “Was he, Takehito?”

“Huh?”

“You had an iPod. I saw it tucked under yer hoodie.”

He held up his hands. “I wasn’t the only one! Onagawa? Bet you had one.”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Honest, I didn’t. Coach-san caught me last year and confiscated it, don’t you remember? I wasn’t going to risk that again.”

“I didn’t have an iPod,” Sakunami said, smiling kindly at Koganegawa. “I didn’t even bring a phone because I wasn’t sure we were allowed to, and I didn’t want to get thrown out of Training Camp when I’ve only just made the team.”

“Then ... who?”

Aone halted. “Dentist,” he said, and reaching across he pushed Futakuchi towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah, I got a few minutes yet,” Futakuchi muttered, and shook himself free. “Hmm, so it seems everyone got a random act of kindness, yeah. Koganegawa got his rhythm, Sakunami got a bonsai tree, Onagawa a pot noodle. Sasaya-san got some cool kind of top, Mr Muscle a training programme and ... uh ... well, Obara, you kind of lucked out, but at least your senpais noticed you ...” He grinned and stepped a little behind Aone. Then he faltered, and reaching up placed his hand on Aone’s shoulder. “What about you, Takanobu?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Huh?” Futakuchi glared at them all. “Look, if Takanobu hasn’t got anything, then this week isn’t over. It might not be random, but you all need to think of something because he’s the better part of –”

Aone’s hand pushed Futakuchi in the face, but gently, just his attempt to shut him up. “The bus,” he muttered, his voice gravelly. “The girl on the bus.”

“What?”

Kaname watched his team, watched the looks of confusion and consternation as they tried to process Aone’s words.

“Uh ... what girl?” Onagawa asked, adding with a grin, “Was she cute?”

“A child,” Aone said, deadpan. “One of you asked her to speak to me. Not many people do on buses.” He pressed his lips together. “Thank you.”  But he looked gloomier than ever.

“Um ... It wasn’t me,” Futakuchi said when Aone locked looks with him. “Hey, Taka-chan. I wouldn’t do that. It would be kind of ... pervy, don’t you think, me getting a kid to sit next to you on a bus.”

Aone blinked. “Her mother was there.”

“Well, even worse. She wouldn’t let her kid sit next to you on our say-so, would she?”

“She knew about volleyball,” he said stubbornly.

Moniwa frowned at the team, but everyone looked puzzled, so he stepped towards Aone, and touched his arm. “Maybe there’s a player in her family. A big brother or something. Let’s see, what did she look like?”

Aone creased his forehead, thinking carefully. “She had a pink rainhat. I couldn’t see her hair. Blue eyes and a back pack...” He trailed off, and as he recalled the memory, a small smile lit his lips. “There was a name on the backpack. I will think.”

 “Well, that could take a while. I’d better go in!” Futakuchi said, smirking even as he heaved a sigh. He turned to the door, then looked back over his shoulder. “Thanks, guys. Thanks for getting me here, and keeping my mind off this.”

“No problem,” they all said, then, with a small signal from Kamasaki they chorused. “Go, Go, Let’s Go, Let’s Go, Futakuchi - oh!”

He laughed, raising his face to the sky and punched the air. “It’s a good job you’re the players and not the cheer squad,” he shouted, holding his hands over his ears. “Kogane-kun?”

“Yes, Futakuchi-san!”

“Why not give them a verse of Uptown Funk? Keep them occupied,” he said and laughed louder.

“It was YOU!”

“Uh-huh, I heard Sakunami-kun on the sidelines and it sounded like good advice. And you took it and paid it forward. So, well done, kouhai. Well done.”

As Futakuchi placed his hand on the handle, Aone ceased his deep thinking, saying slowly. “The girl.”

“What about her?” Futakuchi asked

“Her name was Natsu. Natsu Hin- something. She wanted to be a Middle Blocker.”

“Pretty name, Aone-kun,” Kaname replied, “We’ll remember it and keep a look out in case she ever plays.”

Aone nodded, silent again, but no longer morose and it was clear when he walked back that his step was lighter, and he held his head just a little higher in the air.

“Still worried about our second-years, Moniwa-kun,” Sasaya murmured.

He smiled, taking in everyone around him and how they’d all come together to help one of their own, however irritating they might find him.

“They’re the future Iron Wall of Datekou,” he murmured. “And this week’s proved that despite everything, they’re a team. I don’t think it’s in them to let us down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much if you've stuck with this story. It has been a bit of a slog getting through it, even though the chapters aren't long, so I do hope it's not been tough to read and that you've enjoyed it. I'm not sure I'll attempt Datekou again, although I did kind of land Aone in a mysterious home life.... Oh, and there was a hint of KamaSaya that might get picked up one day.
> 
> I've been moaning about this story, so apologies to anyone I've pissed off or who's got bored with my wailing. Love y'all.
> 
> Comments and kudos are ALWAYS appreciated. 
> 
> Thank you. I shall go away and think of daisuga.


End file.
